Speechless
by Artemis's Liege
Summary: Bobby Drake doesn't like Jean-Paul Martin at all, not even as a friend. Nope, not the slightest bit. So why does he care that Jean-Paul doesn't speak to him? Five times Bobby almost spoke to Jean-Paul and the one time he actually did. Pre-friendship fic.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** All recognizable characters, settings, and other plot elements belong to Marvel. Any products or copyrighted material belong to their respective owners. I do not gain any profit from this page.

**Edit: **Re-post due to revisions.

**Author's Note:** The views and opinions expressed in the story content do not correlate with the views and opinions of Artemis's Liege.

**Continuity:** Uses the setting from the original X-Men movie trilogy, but ignores the events.

**Rating: T**, for minor profanity and mentions of sexual situations.

* * *

Prologue

* * *

If someone were to ask Bobby Drake what he thought a vampire looked like, he would introduce said someone to Jean-Paul Martin. Dour as he was, Jean-Paul would be far from pleased at the prospect of suffering through such shenanigans, and Bobby would instigate the meeting just for the satisfaction of watching the scowl mar the other mutant's usually stony features.

While not a malicious person, Bobby couldn't help but enjoy the idea of antagonizing Jean-Paul, not that he had ever engaged in such an act. Despite barely speaking, Jean-Paul exuded an air of entitlement, as if he were the exception to every rule. He didn't speak often, but not because of reticence; instead he radiated the snobbish notion of being too good to speak to anyone. Over time, this grated upon Bobby's nerves, and Jean-Paul managed to unwittingly irritate him with so much as a roll of his strangely-colored eyes.

Even when he had first talked to Jean-Paul, the other teen had been remarkably unfriendly. This marked Bobby's lack of enthusiasm for conversations to come, and he found he was disinclined to speak to Jean-Paul, even though there was a part of him that wished to crack Jean-Paul's unshakable demeanor. Bobby couldn't explain this infatuation, but the other arrogant young man fascinated him.

But what vexed him the most was Jean-Paul's apparent unwillingness to care that others found him to be sullen and haughty. Jean-Paul had to know that others called him conceited and stuck-up behind his back, but Jean-Paul never lifted a finger to change that impression or worked to modify his behavior. This irked Bobby. Why was Jean-Paul so apathetic to being nice to other people?

When he first saw Jean-Paul, the only thought he had was to marvel at his resemblance to a vampire with his eerily flawless looks: sleek, black hair; pale, completely unblemished complexion; and tall, thin but athletic build; with lean, defined muscles. Of course, Bobby knew that Jean-Paul wasn't really a vampire because he was standing in a pool of sunlight and neither was he melting or anything, as the myths claimed, nor was he sparkling, like in that one vampire movie he had seen, the one with the really terrible acting.

His second thought upon seeing Jean-Paul was to wonder if he was a new student at the Xavier Institute. And the students were mutants, so if Jean-Paul was a student, he had to be a mutant, so what were his abilities?

Also, Bobby observed (totally impartially, of course), this kid was so pretty that he might steal the attention of all the eligible girls at the Institute. And that was not was Bobby wanted. Luckily for him, Rogue never had swooned over Warren like the rest of the girls, so Bobby probably still had a chance with her.

Although Bobby had initially only sauntered outside to find Jubilee and ask if he could borrow her DVD copy of _Black Swan _(Remy had recommended the film to him and said that it was an awesome movie.), he abandoned his mission of strolling along looking for the chatty girl. Knowing Jubilee's constant need for attention, she was probably preening in the middle of a group of people, showing off her new Dazzler T-Shirt and reveling in their attention, anyway, and Bobby was intrigued by the stranger walking along the path towards him.

Looking at Jean-Paul, it was plain for Bobby to see that the other was very . . . pretty. Not quite dazzling in the sun like the supposedly beautiful vampire love interest in a young adult romance novel, but he definitely had the looks to do so. Just "good-looking" wasn't enough to describe his fine features, not that Bobby had experience discussing the physically attractive attributes of other men.

But this kid looked like he had just walked out of the nearest modeling studio on an afternoon jaunt and happened to stumble across the Xavier Institute grounds. While Jean-Paul's face wasn't positively angelic, like Warren's, he was still on the same level of pretty, as if they were sculptures that had been carved by Michelangelo, or were male characters who were always surrounded by flowers and sparkles in those anime shows Kitty and Jubilee sometimes watched.

The two were only a few feet apart now, and Bobby spoke to the other mutant, doing his best to be affable. "Hey, you a new student here?"

Jean-Paul halted in front of him, but he looked at Bobby with all the warmth of a coiling rattlesnake. "Is that significant in any way?" His voice was cold and impatient. Though Bobby learned later that Jean-Paul was French Canadian, he spoke precise English with no trace of an accent.

Bobby was taken aback by his overt unfriendliness. His tone was defensive when he responded. "Well, yeah, I was just wondering- "

"Actually, ignore that," Jean-Paul said, eyeing Bobby with disdain. "I've just remembered: I don't care. Let's just both move along. I don't want to waste my time with a second-class citizen."

"What the hell did you just call me?" Bobby demanded, caught off-guard by his sucker punch.

A look of deep distaste was his only reply, and Jean-Paul started to walk again, moving towards him.

"What's wrong with you?" Bobby wasn't scared of this pretty boy, only angered by the absence of verbal response.

Jean-Paul simply continued to stare directly at him, his icy eyes locked onto to Bobby's. This reaction, or lack thereof, brought Bobby distinct discomfort, but he found himself enraptured by Jean-Paul's unique eyes and disinclined to break the shared gaze.

A fleeting emotion flashed across Jean-Paul's handsome features, evanescing before Bobby had a chance to decipher it. Yet for a moment, Jean-Paul's movie star aura seemed to fade, leaving him strangely human; the ice in his gaze melted very briefly, before resuming in an instant.

But then Jean-Paul's eyes, deep blue with hints of gray, reminiscent of an ocean covered with silver mist, passed right over him, as if he was nothing more than another piece of shrubbery. Even after Jean-Paul had woven swiftly around him, like a . . . shadow in the . . . night, Bobby remembered his cold gaze, within a handsome, yet blank face, unable to be warmed at all by the bright sunny day.

* * *

**A/N: **

I like the idea of Remy convincing Bobby to watch_ Black Swan, _so Bobby would be all, "What the hell is this?" throughout the entire movie. Also, he seems to have learned all of his information on vampires from watching_ Twilight._

Let me know what you thought of the story. Peace.


	2. Five

**Disclaimer:** All recognizable characters, settings, and other plot elements belong to Marvel. Any products or copyrighted material belong to their respective owners. I do not gain any profit from this page.

* * *

5.

* * *

Bobby found out later, as "luck" would have it, that the aloof stranger was indeed a new student and was his age, thus, he would be in Bobby's classes. Jubilee had learned this when she had rifled through the desk in Ms. Munroe's and found a note. She had shared the contents of the paper with Bobby and their friends Piotr and Kitty.

The note detailed basic information about the new student: his name (Jean-Paul Martin), his birthday (June 4th, a surprisingly late birthday in the year for their grade), and manner by which his mutation surfaced (a month after his sister ran away from her boarding school, he had swallowed a bottle of sleeping pills, gone joyriding in his father's Lamborghini, "accidently" drove the car through a guardrail, and totally healed from every scratch by the time the ambulance arrived).

Glad he now knew enough of Jean-Paul to at least have some advantage over him if they exchanged barbs again, Bobby simply observed as the rest of the freshmen class gawked at the new student the next day. For the sake of simplicity, the students sat in alphabetical order in each class, in five rows of three. Thus, Bobby found himself sitting next to Jean-Paul in every class.

In yet another instance of "luck," Ms. Munroe gave them a pop quiz on the battles of the Civil War, which had several essay questions.

Despite Ms. Munroe's offer to let Jean-Paul skip the quiz because it was his first day, Jean-Paul completed the paper regardless, rapidly filling the white space for the essay questions with spiky cursive as Bobby watched him longingly, occasionally tearing his gaze from him to contemplate his own blank paper.

Unfortunately for Bobby, just as he was watching Jean-Paul finish the final essay question, the other looked up and caught his eye, then flipped over his paper.

Bobby knew what Jean-Paul must have been thinking: Bobby was trying to copy his work. So he opened his mouth, prepared to protest his innocence.

But Jean-Paul stopped him before he could even begin, sending such a frigid look in his direction that gave Bobby a sensation similar to if he had stripped down to his skivvies and hugged a glacier. Then, Jean-Paul simply ignored him.

There was really nothing more he could do about the situation, not unless he wanted to be lectured by Ms. Munroe for talking during a quiz. So Bobby shut his mouth and returned to his own essay questions, forcibly ignoring the presence by his side.

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**A/N:** Reviews and input are always appreciated. Also, is Jean-Paul too much of a Gary-Stu? Please let me know.


	3. Four

4.

* * *

The days passed, and Bobby had few opportunities to talk to Jean-Paul, even though he sat right by him in _every single one_ of his classes. The friends the other had found for himself at the Institute were Manuel de la Rocha, who, in Bobby's opinion, was an asshole; Saint-John Allerdyce, who was wild, but mostly okay; Regan Wyngarde, who was outwardly malicious to almost anyone outside her clique; Amara Aquilla, who was a snob; and Rogue, who Bobby thought was the hottest girl at the Institute.

Ironically enough, Jean-Paul and Rogue somewhat resembled one another: pale skin, elegant facial features, dark hair distinctive eyes, tall and thin with lean muscles, and faint smirks at the corners of their lips. Their mannerisms were very similar as well, with their close-mouthed but far from timid demeanors and air of knowing something that no one else did. They were so alike that they were almost interchangeable with one another.

Their paths didn't often cross, so there was no reason for Bobby to speak with Jean-Paul. None at all. Not that Bobby really _wanted_ to talk to him, knowing what a jackass he was, but Jean-Paul had captured his interest. In a sense, he seemed very evasive, as if there was more to him than the eye could see. And Bobby saw him often, because Bobby was looking at him often. But because he sat next to him. It wasn't like he wanted to look at Jean-Paul Martin.

Subsequent to a mysterious week-long absence from school that had aroused Bobby's interest, Jean-Paul returned as the passenger of a silver Lexus, looking rather worse for wear; he had a grayish tinge to his skin and dark circles ringing his eyes.

One day after gym class, Bobby realized there was more to Jean-Paul's unhealthy appearance.

He was just passing by in the locker room as Jean-Paul was toweling off his ebony hair, only wearing a pair of black jeans, which like all of his clothing, Jubilee swore, was extremely expensive and brand name. With Jean-Paul shirtless and standing in front of one of the wide mirrors, Bobby could see his torso.

Specifically, he could see the smattering of bruises on Jean-Paul's torso. At their height of coloration, most of the lesions were large, and a particularly nasty one was taking on a slightly green hue.

Bobby couldn't help but stare at him. Jean-Paul looked as if he had been in a brutal fight, if the bruises were taking so much time to heal. It didn't make any sense; according to rumor, Jean-Paul had been abruptly summoned home due to a family emergency, and family situations weren't exactly known for their combat. Well, physical combat, at any rate.

Noticing Bobby's fixed gaze, Jean-Paul met his eyes in the mirror, and arched a dark eyebrow, his expression utterly deadpan. All he needed, Bobby observed, were a pair of pointy elf-ears, and then he could be a prettier, more-prone-to-bar-brawling Mr. Spock.

Bobby was quite tempted, when he locked gazes with Jean-Paul, to open his mouth and comment or ask upon the subject of the bruises. But then again, when Jean-Paul did talk, his tone was frequently of the mordant variety, and Bobby wasn't sure he had the patience for that at the moment. So he just turned and walked away, ignoring the pang of his conscience and twisting of his stomach as the image of those bruises marring pale, perfect skin plagued his mind.

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**A/N**: Reviews are great, BTW.


	4. Three

**Author's Note:** Reviews and input are always appreciated. Concrit is also great.

* * *

3.

* * *

The nature of Jean-Paul's relationship with Manuel de la Rocha was a topic that generated much discussion behind their backs; the rest of the student body conjectured frequently about the two friends who were rarely seen apart.

None of the others in their clique ever responded to anyone's question about the two: Saint-John would just smile, laugh, and change the subject; Amara would toss her sleek hair and snap, "That's none of your business! God!"; Regan, who for whatever reason was usually queried while performing some sort of beauty regime, would send her interrogator a "bitch please" look and ask something along the lines of, "Really? Are you seriously asking me this?" and then go back to painting her nails or whatever else she had been doing.

In the end, all of them would give some sort of circumlocution, unless it was Rogue. In that case, she would just ignore them and continue whatever she was doing. But it was a trend for the other students to speculate together about the bond Manuel and Jean-Paul shared when they weren't within earshot.

Bobby wasn't sure what he thought exactly, mainly because he alternated between the beliefs that the other young men were abnormally close friends and actual suspicion that the two were involved with each other. Sometimes the manner in which the two acted- Manuel looping an arm over Jean-Paul's shoulders, offering his jacket to Jean-Paul when it was cold –seemed to indicated that Manuel held more than platonic feelings for the other boy. Of course, with Jean-Paul's overall expressionlessness, his emotions toward Manuel were nigh unfathomable. At other times, the situation appeared to Bobby as two rich snobs uniting because of their shared elitist views.

However, as Bobby walked down the outdoor staircase that led from the extensive patio to the Institute's lower courtyard, the relationship of the other two students was the last thing on his mind, even as Jean-Paul and Manuel began ascending the stairs. Instead, his mind was filled with images of Rogue from gym class that day. She was the only girl in the team sports section, as all of the other girls had opted to take the dance class taught by Ms. Hunter to fill the physical education requirement. Thus, Rogue received much attention from the males in class, though only St. John and Manuel spoke to her; with Rogue's cold demeanor, the others didn't want to risk being shot down.

Mentally replaying the swift, graceful way she had crashed into him and sent them both sprawling, Bobby didn't notice that he was about to collide with someone else: Jean-Paul.

The impact wasn't very forceful, but Manuel acted as if Bobby had just shoved Jean-Paul down the entire flight of stairs.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Manuel demanded aggressively, weaving around Jean-Paul to close in on Bobby.

"What's wrong with you?" Bobby asked incredulously. "Look, it was an accident."

"You know, Drake," Manuel snarled, stepping closer "people like you are uppity cretins that need to be shown their correct place."

"Bring it, you bastard." Bobby, having no patience for insufferable jackasses like Manuel, moved forward as well, not intimidated in the slightest.

"Stop." In an instant, Jean-Paul was between them, placing a placating hand on their arms closest to him, using moderate force to push them apart from each other. "Just let this go, Manuel. I'm fine." He turned to Bobby. "Just walk away from this."

Bobby was about to tell Jean-Paul to get stuffed, but there was an odd gleam of emotion in the other teen's unnatural eyes that threw him off. Was that . . . desperation?

Disquieted by this display and not quite sure what to do, Bobby withdrew his arm from Jean-Paul's loose grasp and continued down the stairs to meet Piotr and Jubilee, ignoring Jean-Paul's gaze, which he could feel burning in the back of his head.

* * *

**So . . . any thoughts?**


	5. Two

2.

* * *

The weekend before Halloween, Jean-Paul had once again left the school. However, this excursion would prove to be briefer than the other. He departed on Friday night, and as Bobby was present to witness, returned Saturday morning.

"God, Betsy is taking such a long time," Jubilee complained, zipping her canary yellow jacket closed.

She, Bobby, Kitty, and Piotr were standing around Betsy Braddock's locked Camaro, waiting for Betsy to fulfill her offer of driving them to Salem Center, the closest town to the Institute, about a twenty-five minute ride away.

"You shush." Kitty playfully poked Jubilee in the arm. "You always make everyone else wait for you. Besides, it was just nice of Betsy to invite us along. We should be grateful."

"It was kind of her to think of us," Piotr agreed in his deep voice.

"But Betsy is taking forever to get going," Bobby griped.

"Yeah," Jubilee said, "I mean- "

A sharp squeal of tires skidding on pavement abruptly cut her off. Careening down the drive was a red car, swerving dangerously, as if the driver had lost control. At one point, the back tires veered off the drive onto the grass, but the driver angled the car back onto the pavement without so much as pausing. The end of the car began to fishtail, and the group of bystanders instinctively jumped back to put space between themselves and the reckless driver.

There was a screech of brakes as the car slowed and pulled into the space beside Betsy's Camaro. The engine was switched off and the door swung open, revealing Jean-Paul as he stepped out of the car, scowling.

Bobby was ready to demand an explanation for Jean-Paul's potentially fatal careless driving, but the words could form on his tongue, his aloof classmate had already brushed past him, without acknowledging his presence. Bobby could call a dis when he saw one, and was unwilling to call after Jean-Paul and set himself up to look like an idiot, so he just gritted his teeth and watched Jean-Paul stride to the entranceway and shut the heavy oak door behind him.

They stared after their classmate for a few more seconds, until Jubilee broke the silence.

"I wonder whose car he stole?"

Still smarting over Jean-Paul's snub, Bobby shrugged. "It's probably just his dad's."

Jubilee shook her head. "Nope. This is a Mustang, which is expensive, but traditionally muscle cars rather then money cars. Jean-Paul's family is rolling in the dough, so his dad would probably have something classier, like a Jaguar, or that Lamborghini Jean-Paul totaled, or that Lexus we saw a few weeks ago."

"Perhaps the car belongs to Jean-Paul," Piotr suggested.

"He's too young to have a learner's permit, let alone a driver's license," Kitty objected. "And from what we've just seen, he can't really drive anyway, so there's no reason for him to have a car."

"Plus, this car isn't Jean-Paul's style," Jubilee went on. "It's red with macho double white stripes on the hood, beige leather seats, and normal windows. Don't tell me that if Jean-Paul had a car, it wouldn't be something subtler, like plain black with black leather seats and tinted windows. You know, boring."

They barely had time to process these speculations before Betsy finally arrived.

"Hey everyone, sorry I'm late," the college student said. She noticed the Mustang. "Whose car is that?"

"No idea," Bobby told her. Hell, it wasn't even really a lie.

Later on while hanging out with his friends in the town, Jean-Paul's cold eyes wouldn't stay out of Bobby's head, and he thought about the coincidence that both times that Jean-Paul returned from his conspicuous absences, he brought back something unexpected with him. First heavy bruises, now a car.

Of course, Jubilee had mentioned that Jean-Paul's mutation had surfaced in the wake of a car wreck, hadn't she? And Bobby himself had viewed Jean-Paul's kamikaze driving . . . had Jean-Paul gained those injuries in another car crash and remained at home for his recovery? Would even make sense with his healing factor, or to explain the actual reason why Jean-Paul had gone home in the first place?

Bobby rolled his eyes at himself. He should've been enjoying his day off with his friends, but here he was contemplating the life of a classmate whom he didn't even like and was colder than the Arctic tundra.

He did wonder for a moment, though, if Jean-Paul thought of Bobby as much as Bobby thought of him. However, he forced this question from his mind, not quite certain he wanted an answer.

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**Author's Note:** Reviews and other input are great. Feedback always helps me out.


	6. One

1.

* * *

When Bobby realized that he had forgotten his biology homework in his final class of the day, his first response was to slap his palm to his forehead. His second response was to sigh, stand and exit the dorm, heading to the Spanish classroom.

He stood in the doorway when he arrived there, eyes on the only two people in the room. Jean-Paul was before the teacher's desk, a thin smirk on his handsome face, reclining on his palms,which were laid flat against the desk as he leaned over slightly, still appearing poised as ever.

Sitting behind the desk was the young and pretty Spanish teacher, Ms. Ghazikhanian. She was leaning forward, giggling at something Jean-Paul had just said in a tone too low for Bobby to hear. One of her manicured hands reposed between her cleavage, which was just _almost _exposed by her cashmere V-neck sweater, toying with the pendant that hung down from a delicate chain to lay upon her generous chest.

Though insensitive at times, Bobby could tell that he was interrupting . . . something. Deciding to walk away before either of them noticed him, he took a step back, but unfortunately, the sole of one of his Nikes squeaked on the tile.

Teacher and student both started, Ms. Ghazikhanian bolting up with a mortified expression on her face, uttering a panicked "Oh my God!"

Jean-Paul's reaction was much more subtle, but was definitely there. The moment his eyes laid upon Bobby, an emotion flashed across his face, although it vanished so quickly that Bobby couldn't decipher what it was.

"B-B-Bobby." Ms. Ghazikhanian was floundering, mouthing words but seemingly unable to voice them. Eventually she managed to ask, "What are you doing here?"

Without removing his gaze from Bobby, Jean-Paul picked up a pharmaceutical pill bottle from Ms. Ghazikhanian's desk, and strode forward. He paused prior to walking out the door, stopping to scan Bobby's face, studying him with his freakishly-colored eyes. Wanting nothing more than to snap at him to quit staring, Bobby wrenched his jaw open, but Jean-Paul suddenly maneuvered around him, moving into the corridor.

Then Bobby knew: the reactions of Ms. Ghazikhanian and especially Jean-Paul confirmed that he had interrupted what was intended to be a super-secret meeting.

"I'm just here for my notebook," Bobby managed.

"Fine," Ms. Ghazikhanian said, but her tone was too sharp.

After collecting his notebook and returning to his dorm, Bobby was distracted from thinking about the incident and forgot all about it until Ms. Ghazikhanian left the school out of the blue the next month.

According to rumor, she was fired and disgraced because she had been conducting an illicit teacher-student affair with Jean-Paul, while providing him with painkillers and falsifying his Spanish test scores to give him better grades. Remembering the encounter he had barged in on, Bobby was not entirely surprised.

* * *

**A/N: **Before anyone gets upset about Jean-Paul's actions in this chapter, remmeber that this is Bobby's P.O.V., and all is not as it seems. I will write more about this particular incident in the future, however.

Join us next for the final installment of "Speechless"! Bobby finally talks to Jean-Paul again!

Also, would anyone be interested if I wrote an accompanying piece to this story about the first encounter of Bobby and Jean-Paul from J.P.'s perspective?


	7. Zero

0.

* * *

Wandering through a fallow cornfield on a cold fall night with nothing but two flashlights and the full moon to guide him was not Bobby's idea of a good time. Jean-Paul, though, looked perfectly complacent with his surroundings as he moved swiftly and soundlessly through the night, which Bobby observed frustratedly. He was fuming over the fact that he was out here in the first place and being partnered with a conceited jackass for this workout had not improved his attitude.

This training exercise was insane. Only Mr. Logan would show them the area surrounding "headquarters" on that three-dimensional metal map, expect them to memorize the routes back to the make-believe H.Q., then tell them to find their way to base, and dump them out of the Blackbird at separate points in the middle of nowhere, at night, with a only a partner and a couple of flashlights.

The night swallowed any sense of time Bobby had once possessed; it could have been ten minutes or thirty since they got out there.

And he was assigned to work with Jean-Paul for this session. Bobby wasn't too happy about that and had yet to stop steaming over his assigned partner. Intriguing as the other was, the two of them had sonly exchanged words once, during which that occasion Jean-Paul had verbally eviscerated him, and Bobby had an inkling that the continuing lack of dialogue between them was deliberate on Jean-Paul's part, which embittered his already sour mood.

The darkness made the ground difficult to see, and Bobby stumbled over a rut in the grass. Even as he spewed curses, Jean-Paul didn't turn around or so much as pause.

"This is so stupid!" Bobby burst out angrily.

"What's stupid?" Jean-Paul questioned without hesitation. "The fact that we're wandering through some Godforsaken grassland in the middle of the night as a training exercise, or the fact that we're wandering through some Godforsaken grassland in the middle of the night as a training exercise in order to become soldiers of a private paramilitary organization?"

For a moment, Bobby could only concentrate on Jean-Paul's voice. Pleasant and low, but still clear and distinct, his tone layered with amusement and a hint of sarcasm.

Then he realized that he hadn't answered the query. "The first one," he replied, surprised that he and Jean-Paul were actually talking. "I mean, what is this supposed to teach?"

"Possibly, survival in unfamiliar environments."

"Yeah, but- "

"Allow me to clarify something for you, Drake," Jean-Paul said coldly. "I wasn't attempting to engage you in an argument or debate. I was simply responding to your question."

A silence fell between them as they kept moving.

"Are you sure we're going in the right direction?" Bobby asked after walking for a few more minutes.

Jean-Paul's response was to shine his flashlight on a tree up ahead that had a glow-in-the-dark piece of clothing hanging from a lower branch: a trail marker placed by Ms. Munroe and Logan and to indicate that they were following the correct path to "headquarters."

"Oh, yeah," Bobby said sheepishly.

They trudged several more yards without speaking, leaving the cornfield behind to pass under a grove of trees.

"Why did you do it?" The words slipped off of Bobby's tongue before he could consider what he was saying.

"Do _what_?" Jean-Paul seemed supremely uninterested.

"That thing with Ms. Ghazikhanian."

"Does it matter?" His tone had a sharp edge to it. "What's done is done. Would you and everyone else mind just allowing me move on with my life?"

"Well, I guess people don't want to let it go because they're shocked at how idiotic it was for you to do that." Bobby wasn't quite sure when his mouth had began moving independently of his brain, and though he knew enough to be chary of Jean-Paul, his pride refused to allow him to retract his response, so he pushed further. "Seriously, what the hell were you doing, sleeping with a teacher for a grade?"

"I don't want to offend you, but I really don't care about anything you have to say." Jean-Paul's voice was vaguely annoyed rather than angry.

"Oh, no, don't worry about offending me at all. God, is everyone in your family so much fun? Is that why you go to see them so often? I totally can't imagine why your sister ran away." The words rushed out of Bobby's throat in an outburst of anger and he regretted what he had said only an instant later.

Jean-Paul turned to look at him, but Bobby was unable to fathom his expression due to the shadows cast by the overhanging trees. "Drake," he said in a deadly calm voice, "my sister is not a subject that is up for discussion."

Now that Bobby was finally speaking with Jean-Paul, it was kind of . . . underwhelming, other than their unexpected topic of conversation. Yes, Jean-Paul was acting like a complete prick, as usual, but that wasn't unexpected. Bobby wasn't sure what he had expected, maybe someone darker and mysterious. It was strange to think of the aloof Jean-Paul as having normal human emotions, such as unwillingness to talk about his sister. Despite his stunningly handsome face and cool demeanor, Jean-Paul had flaws.

And wasn't this what he had wanted? To find out more about Jean-Paul? True, not all of his questions had been answered, but they didn't really have to be. Now that Jean-Paul was no longer such an enigma, Bobby could move on with his life, and stop thinking about him all the time. And yet, while not quite a mystery, there was still a lot about Jean-Paul to unravel. The bruises, unfamiliar cars, unexplained comings and goings . . . exactly what kind of life did Jean-Paul lead?

The two continued into the darkness, not speaking once again.

Okay, Bobby admitted inwardly to himself, Jean-Paul still was an arcane figure at the Xavier Institute. And no, he wasn't ready to give up trying to figure out the abstruse other teenager, though it was doubtless that Jean-Paul wouldn't appreciate his investigation. But there was nothing else to do; thoughts of Jean-Paul plagued him day and night, and maybe this would bring the issue some closure.

"Were you and your twin sister alike?"

_Jesus._ Bobby couldn't believe he had actually broached the subject.

Jean-Paul went very, very still. "What?" He asked, his voice a dangerous hiss.

_Oh, God._ "Look, just forget it," Bobby said hurriedly. "I was wondering, um, well- never mind."

Jean-Paul turned toward him, his freakish, intriguing eyes impossibly luminous in the darkness, and Bobby felt as if the vivid color was burning into his own sockets as Jean-Paul refused to break their shared gaze. They stared unfalteringly into each other's eyes for several minutes, with such a charged tension between them that for one bizarre moment, Bobby had to fight down the peculiar urge to reach out and kiss Jean-Paul as if they were love interests in a movie.

But then their shared world was shattered by harsh words.

"We're more different than you could possibly imagine," Jean-Paul said fiercely, before resuming his pace, leaving Bobby behind once more.

They continued walking they reached a clearing, and as Bobby watched, the moonlight played over Jean-Paul's handsome features, rendering his face pale and cold as white marble, his eyes still intense.

Jean-Paul might have been a mystery for now, but in time, Bobby would unmask him and show the world who he really was.

* * *

**A/N:** Jean-Paul acts very prickly here, but if you've read "Guilt Trips" then you know why he doesn't want to talk about Jeanne-Marie.

Soooo . . . is anyone interested in more about Jean-Paul and Bobby? I wrote an alternate version of this final encounter, so I think I'll post it with this story.


	8. Alternate

0. (Alternate)

* * *

The dark halls were silent as Bobby did his best to move quietly to the staircase. After tossing and turning in his bed for several hours, he had given up on trying to sleep, and decided to sneak down to the student lounge instead. He could chill out there, maybe grab something to eat from the kitchenette area.

His only worry was the teacher's lounge, which was straight down the hall from the student lounge, strategically placed so teachers could pass through the student area as they came and went, keeping an eye on their charges. Sometimes Mr. Logan, or Remy, despite not actually being a teacher, stayed there late into the night to watch sports on the plasma-screen television.

Bobby descended the staircase from the male student dorms quickly and slowly pushed open the door that led to the next corridor. He turned right, heading straight for the lounge area, frowning as he heard a low voice speaking. Had someone accidentally left the TV on?

But as he entered the open lounge area, he saw that there was another occupant of the room: Jean-Paul Martin, who was currently occupying the leather couch. Just his luck.

There was no illumination in the room but the television. The light cast a flickering glow onto Jean-Paul's already unearthly features. Akin to a magazine model, Jean-Paul managed to appear perfectly poised and outwardly flawless even when he did something as simple as sit on the couch and watch a TV show.

Bobby walked further into the room, but Jean-Paul didn't seem to even notice his presence. His face was blank and he was completely focused on the television.

Bobby also gazed at the television for several moments. The Discovery Channel was showing some sort of special about "unlocking the mystery of twins". For whatever reason, this program positively riveted Jean-Paul.

Though he half-considered demanding control of the remote, Bobby decided it was too late at night for antagonism and settled for taking a seat on the opposite end of the sectional sofa from Jean-Paul.

"Hi," he said in an attempt to be friendly, albeit somewhat belatedly, as put up his feet on the ottoman.

Jean-Paul turned his torso slightly to face Bobby, the contours of his wiry muscles shifting as he did so. Even as he relaxed on the couch, his pose and expression were reminiscent of a statue: cold and unreachable.

"Hey," Jean-Paul returned at last.

For a moment, Bobby could only concentrate on Jean-Paul's voice. Pleasant, though somewhat cool, and low, but still clear and distinct.

Within seconds, Jean-Paul went back to the program that seemed to fascinate him. Bobby, however, could only focus only Jean-Paul. As the silence between them continued, Bobby desperately wanted to say something, anything.

"Jean-Paul." He spoke abruptly, surprising himself.

The teen in question turned to him again. "Yes?"

"I, um, well . . . I was wondering if I could call you 'J.P.', you know, as a nickname," Bobby managed.

Jean-Paul watched him for a few seconds before replying. "Why not?" He settled back on the couch.

The silence resumed, but not as heavily as before. And now that it had been broken, Bobby was sure that it couldn't continue for much longer.

* * *

**A/N:** Not so sure I liked how this turned out, so I probably will post an alternate version of their final encounter.

Also, Jean-Paul features prominently in Chapter 12 of my story "What Could Go Wrong?", if anyone's interested.

Additionally, I've written a companion story to this called "Speechless". Check it out if you're interested.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed!


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